Leave it to Fleener--H&P #7

Back at it again.  

Coming back from Hawaii has been hard. Just returning to life away from the beach is less than perfect, but in the week we came home, I had chemo, cub scouts pinewood derby (kill me now), child-made plumbing issues, a child who choked on a rock and required the heimlich, a women's conference speech to prepare and give, all with many LOONG days of work for Stephen, which put me as mostly a single parent.  In the last few weeks, there have been a wave of end-of-year school activities, a quick, 3-day trip out of town, a dermatologist appoint, the usual soccer practices and games, as well as an attempt to rearrange and deep clean my house.  Basically, I feel like I've barely been keeping my head above water, so it's been difficult to even think about updating this blog (or our family one, for that matter.)  

If there's one thing I've learned about fighting cancer, it's that life most certainly does not slow down to accommodate that fight.  We have to step up and meet it, realizing that there will be things that will fall aside or slip through the cracks.  It's true that no one can do everything, but somehow all the important things get done. 

I met with Dr. Fleener today.  She was excited that I'm still in remission (and somewhat annoyed that the reports said, only "stable."  Cancer patients need to hear that they are in remission. )  My ECHO is still normal, as well.  At this point, she is very happy with how I have responded to chemo and how I am still remaining "stable."  It's hard to believe I'm coming up on a year since this all came back again!  But, she is positive that I'll make it to a year this time, and that's a BIG milestone for metastatic disease.  She was describing several of her other patients that are in similar situations as I am.  There really isn't a lot of information available on the use of Herceptin and Perjeta beyond three years, and she has several patients beyond that stage.  These are meant for use with lifelong maintenance, but most of those "life-long" timetables don't last beyond a few years.  It's fun being somewhat of a lab rat, but comforting that I'm not her only rat!  You just never know what's around the corner!  

I never dreamed I'd have cancer at age 33.  

I thought my battle was behind me when I reached my first year in remission.

I certainly never expected to have to start fighting again so soon since the last battle.  

However, I'm still here.  I'm still fighting.  I still matter, and life goes on.  

Yes, there are hard days.  There are times when I fear.  There are times when I am sad and angry and questioning.   I get nervous about aches and pains that pop up and question when cancer's storm cloud will actually begin storming once more.  There are days when I cry long, heavy tears, weeping for the unknown, for my family, for how long we have before they will have to go on without me, for this burden we all carry at all.  When I do have these days, I then get even more upset at myself for allowing the fear and doubts to creep in and overtake the peace and comfort that has blessed my life many times before.  Guilt over shrinking can make the pain that much more difficult.  

Then, I come across words that must have been written just for me:  

    

EMBRACE THE LIFE YOU HAVE.  I would rather be known for doing as much good with the time I have been given than for only grieving what could have been.  If I could go back, surely I would choose to not have cancer.  However, if that meant having to deal with some other tragedy, one for which I was even less prepared, I'm not sure I would make a trade.   Who knows why we must walk these difficult paths.  Who knows if there were choices in the past that led us to these exact points in the future.  All we can know if that we can embrace each moment, trust that every day of life is truly a gift, one in which we are expected to do and become better than we were the day before.  

As Dr. Fleener counseled me:  "You never know what the next summer [or month, season, etc.] will bring.  So, play this summer.  Soak it all in.  Do as much as you feel up to doing."  That pretty much sums up how I plan to embrace my life in the coming months.  

Still kicking'!  

PET Scan

I was not looking forward to this round of scans AT ALL.  I cried.  I complained.  I did not want to go!  I was especially not looking forward to the 24-hour diet of ONLY lean protein and green veggies.  And by "only," I mean...ONLY.  No juice, no toast, no potatoes.  No rice, pasta, or tortillas.  Avoid all sugar, all fruits, all fruit juices, raisins, beats, cantaloupe, cereal, breads, carrots, corn, kidney beans, pretzels, chips, granola, oatmeal, pasta, peas, yams, sodas, etc.  Only drink water.  Even though I was not happy about my limited food choices, I did it.  Then, in the 23rd hour, I received a phone call explaining that the PET scans were broken.  They thought a power outage had fried the computer motherboard.  Regardless of the issue, I would not be having my scheduled scans.  "Go have a glass of wine.  Eat some ice cream," the tech told me.  Well, that would have been information useful to me BEFORE I'd gone through the diet to almost the full amount.  There was no telling when the repairs would be complete, so she would call back to reschedule.

Thankfully, the machines were back up and I was able to get the first appointment of Thursday morning, May 5.  And, because I'd already eaten breakfast that day, I would not have to go another 24 hours of the diet!

That morning, I got up and going early, got Evan to a friend's house, so he would s

till get to school on time, and headed to the appointment.  I was there before the chemo nurses, but was still able to convince the tech to let me ask one of the nurses to access my port, even though we were cutting it close on time.

Once I had port access, I got the dose of radioactive isotopes and waited for them to make their way through my body.

Then, I was in and out, without a problem!

That stuff makes me tired, but gets out of my system fairly quickly by drinking lots of water and eliminating it that way.

Stephen told me he ran into Dr. Fleener at lunch that day.  "I haven't seen you forever!" she told him.  When she asked how things were going, Stephen told her that I was really worried about these scans. She then assured him that she would make a point to get the results THAT DAY.  "Have Melodee call the office by 4:30, if she hasn't heard from us."  What a relief it is to have a doctor that goes above and beyond.

While I was waiting to pick up kids from school, the office called to tell me the results.

"Your results are stable."  was how it was explained.

A little unsure about that terminology, I asked, "That's good, right?"

"Yes!  It means there is no evidence of disease. "


With a sigh of relief, I hung up the phone.  I'm now able to breath a little easier for another 3-4 months!